


Know Your Faces Wisely

by The Mighty Porthos (Porthos4ever)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Demisexual Aziraphale, Explicit Sexual Content, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Missing Scene, Misunderstandings, mushy grossness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-06 09:00:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19441555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Porthos4ever/pseuds/The%20Mighty%20Porthos
Summary: Aziraphale believes he may have found a way to escape the punishments of Heaven and Hell.Crowley completely misunderstands.





	Know Your Faces Wisely

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ElDiablito_SF](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElDiablito_SF/gifts).



> For my Ineffable Wife <3

"Ye must choose your faces wisely," had been the words on the sole surviving scrap of paper from the only book of the only truly accurate prophetess of all of humanity. A scrap still safely tucked in Aziraphale's breast pocket. It had seemed inconsequential at the time, but now it felt heavier than the weight of the world - heavier than the haze of the wine in his veins from the bottle he and Crowley had spent the better part of the last half hour passing back and forth as they waited for the bus back to London.

He sunk into the bus seat next to Crowley, and for a moment stared straight ahead into the darkness, pondering the weight of the revelation.

He didn't have a side anymore, Crowley had said. Neither of them did.

And neither of those sides would accept that without question. It was easy enough to guess what would happen next.

He turned to look at Crowley, just able to make out the snake-slit pupils of his golden eyes behind the dark sunglasses, the lights of the bus reflecting off the shades like they did the windows behind him. Crowley, who had been there since the beginning. He knew what he had to do now, to keep Crowley safe. That the only way to deflect the punishments their sides would inevitably met out would be to trade places. But could he actually do it?

His gaze slowly traced the lines of Crowley's face - those high cheekbones, the jut of his jaw. The way his lips pursed slightly when he thought, like they were doing now. Could he do that? Could he _be_ that? He thought of Crowley's swagger, his devil-may-care attitude. Everything about Crowley that let Aziraphale pick him out in a crowd instantly no matter how long they might have been apart. Could he even hope to pull that off?

"You've been quiet for a very long time, Angel," Crowley said, his gaze even, and Aziraphale swallowed down the dryness of his uncertainty.

"I think," he started carefully, "that perhaps I ought to take you up on your invitation tonight after all."

Crowley's expression shifted slightly, barely perceptible, and in a way Aziraphale couldn't quite identify. His voice was strangely rough. "Are you certain?"

"I believe I need to," Aziraphale replied, and Crowley nodded slowly.

"Yes. Yes, of course."

The Oxford bus did indeed drive them to London, right to the entrance of Crowley's building. It hadn't been a long drive, but Aziraphale had spent it doing his best to bring every moment he'd spent with Crowley back to mind, turning them all over and over. Centuries of being here on earth, running into each other again and again. Forming the Arrangement. Becoming friends, as much as he'd tried to deny it, friends in the way that is never intended but somehow happens anyway. The kind of friendship where you realize one day that you're never a better person than when you're together, that you like that version of yourself better than anything else. Being around Crowley made him better than he'd ever been alone, somehow. Perhaps part of him had always known that.

It made what was to come all the more important, and all the more frightening. He had to keep Crowley safe, no matter what the cost. He couldn't fail.

"Are you alright?" Crowley said quietly, his hand resting briefly on his shoulder as he ushered Aziraphale from the lift and through the door of his flat.

"I'm terrified." The words left Aziraphale's lips before he could think to hold them back, and something in Crowley's expression softened.

"After all this time?"

Aziraphale heard a breathless, nervous laugh escape his lips. "Of course. Crowley, you..." he stopped, then lifted his hands to Crowley's face, fingertips hesitating on the frame of his glasses just long enough to give Crowley the opportunity to stop him. Then he pulled them off of him carefully, folding them and sliding them into the inside breast pocket of Crowley's jacket. He looked back to Crowley's face, taking it all in in the dim light. Taking in Crowley's quietly hopeful gaze.

He had to succeed, somehow. He had to _be_ Crowley. Protect him from all the forces of Hell. Or he'd lose everything.

"You're perfect," he said softly, feeling something inside him twist painfully at the words. "I'm afraid I won't be able to even come close to that, Crowley."

An incredulous huff of breath escaped Crowley's lips. "Me? Angel, you...." he stopped, giving a little helpless shake of his head, tilting it slightly as he gazed at him. Aziraphale watched tip of his tongue dart out to moisten his lips. "You're the most exquisite thing in all of creation," he murmured. "I hardly feel worthy to even touch you."

He? Aziraphale felt a rush of hot and cold at once that left him breathless and half-spluttering. "Surely you can't mean that."

"Have I ever lied to you?" Crowley stepped closer, bringing one hand up to his face, radiating warmth though the air for the moment he hesitated before touching him, cupping his jaw in his palm. There was a rawness to his expression that Aziraphale had only seen before in glimpses, before it was quickly schooled away. "There is nothing in existence more important to me than you," he said, that dryness back in his voice. "I'll do anything you ask of me. I only hope I can be worthy of you."

Of course. Of course, how could he expect that Crowley wouldn't be as frightened as he was? It was a monumental thing they would have to do, going up against each other's sides in each other's places. But he hadn't even considered how Crowley might feel, it seemed inconceivable that his friend's confidence wouldn't carry through. Seeing that vulnerability after so many years of confidence and swagger made Aziraphale's heart ache in a way he hadn't ever thought possible.

Aziraphale had always believed that his side would have his back, and even now, even if the hosts of heaven wouldn't, he knew in his heart that God would. That the ineffable plan had placed him here, with Crowley. But Crowley... how hard must it have been for him over the years, with only the hatred and anger of Hell on his side?

He mirrored Crowley's touch, trying to reassure him. "You can do anything you want to, Crowley. Think of all the times you've saved me. You've always been there. Every time I needed you. You're going to be... amazing."

Crowley's breath caught in his throat, words barely more than a whisper. "You really have so much faith in me?"

"I do. I... have for a very long time, I think. I think I was always meant to."

The corner's of Crowley's lips stretched into a tight smile. "So this is all part of the Ineffable Plan?"

"I think it must be, mustent it? Why else would She have brought us together?"

Crowley gave another soft laugh, his eyes lowering. "I suppose I can live with that," he murmured. Then his fingers tightened on Aziraphale's jaw, and he leaned in to bring their lips together, slow and warm and reverent.

In a shock, Aziraphale realized what had happened - the assumptions he'd made about Crowley's words and understanding, and that he'd never actually _told_ Crowley what he'd realized Agnes Nutter's prophecy was telling them. How everything he'd said could have been so easily misconstrued. He felt hot again, and cold, caught somewhere between mortified embarrassment and... and....

"I'm sorry," Crowley murmured as he broke from his lips, fingers stroking through his hair. "I'm moving too fast for you again, aren't I?"

"I..." Aziraphale started, then stopped. There were a hundred things he ought to say - why this shouldn't, couldn't happen. But he'd been wrong about so, so many things. The only thing he'd really been right about, in the end, had been Crowley. 

And perhaps that really was part of the Ineffable Plan.

"No," he whispered, and felt Crowley's soft inhalation against his lips. Aziraphale let his fingers slide up into Crowley's hair, tightening slightly to anchor himself and utterly unprepared for the low moan it pulled from Crowley's lips or how it would make him feel. "No," he repeated, feeling stronger as he did. "I... I'm sorry I've taken so long."

"My fussy angel," Crowley murmured, and kissed him again. "You've always been worth the wait."

That kissing was something Crowley was clearly very practiced at was immediately apparent, which, surprisingly, didn't bother him. How could it, when Crowley's lips felt so very good against his own - a gentle caress that gradually grew warmer, urging Aziraphale to relax, to melt into him. It was easy to follow that lead, letting his lips part at Crowley's urging. It wasn't that Aziraphale ever been against kissing - despite some of his side being certain that intimacy was a result of the Fall and tool of the Devil, being on Earth for so long had shown Aziraphale how beautiful, how enriching it could be. It was simply not something that he required, as an Angel, and unlike food, he hadn't ever felt the need to try it.

He wrapped both arms up around Crowley's neck, giving a little pleased noise as Crowley drew him closer, arms warm and secure around his waist. Kisses were very nice, he decided, or at least Crowley's were, leaving him feeling warm and pliable, much like wine but with a clearer head. Most certainly at least as pleasurable as the best food he'd had, and he dragged his fingers up the back of Crowley's neck, savoring the sensations. Crowley's form was much warmer than he would have expected, and strong, and as Crowley pressed him back against the wall of his front entry Aziraphale arched into that strength, moaning at the rush of pleasure it sent through him.

"I think I'd like to try sex now," he said when Crowley next released his lips, and felt inordinately pleased at the little strangled, incredulous noise Crowley made in return.

"Do you even know what sex is?"

Perhaps he ought to have been offended; instead Aziraphale found himself laughing. "I may be an Angel, but I'm not an idiot."

"But - "

"I did learn the Gavotte at the Hundred Guineas Club," Aziraphale pointed out. "I would have had to have been blind not to get an eyeful at least once."

"I did wonder about that," Crowley admitted, then drew back more, searching his gaze. "Angel, I... I certainly won't say no, but... are you really alright with this? Being an Angel, I always assumed...."

"I don't think there's anything inherently sinful in intimacy," Aziraphale replied, leaning in to kiss him again. "Especially not with the right person. I've just never particularly felt the desire to try it before."

Crowley gave another low groan, fingers tightening on the small of his back. "You know you're infuriatingly sexy when you talk like that, don't you?" he said, and proceeded to kiss him so thoroughly that Aziraphale had no hope to reply.

Though they weren't particularly bound to one specific look or guise, Aziraphale had always felt most at home, most settled in this form. It certainly wasn't nearly as sexy as the one Crowley had chosen, especially by Human standards. But the way Crowley kissed him, the way he touched him certainly made Aziraphale wonder if he hadn't been wrong about the desirability of his form all along. Soon he was stretched out on Crowley's bed, on sheets that certainly had a sinfully high thread count, reveling in the press of Crowley's nude form over his, tangling his fingers in his hair as Crowley kissed a hot path down his neck.

"You're exquisite," Crowley moaned again, sealing his mouth over his collarbone and grazing his skin with teeth that felt just a little too sharp. "I want to taste everything, I want - " he moved to suck at one nipple, and Aziraphale found himself arching under him in response to the ache of pleasure, responding to it with all the passion of a human, his cock growing harder where the weight of Crowley's body pressed it into his stomach.

Was it Crowley's infernal nature, that made him feel so warm? The physical pleasure was so exquisite that he could hardly think. Yet the thought of what might be still weighed heavy on his mind. He squirmed, catching Crowley's face in his hands, pulling his mouth back to his kisses. He let his fingers trace the curves of Crowley's jaw, his hair, his neck, trying to commit every inch of his form to memory - how he felt, how he moved. "I need to know you," he whispered, and the stuttered buck of Crowley's hips against his - the hard length of his cock against Aziraphale's own - sent another rush of pleasure that made his thoughts stutter to a stop.

"You'd better mean that in the biblical way, Angel." And then Crowley, panting, was shifting to straddle him, wriggling those lithe hips until Aziraphale's cock nestled along the crease of his ass. He reached back with one hand to hold him in place, gaze unfocusing slightly, and Aziraphale felt the soft surge of _miracle_ as his cock became slick. "Please," Crowley gasped, grinding back against him. "Let me - "

"Yes. Yes, anything, God, Crowley - "

And then Crowley was rocking down onto him, and everything - their future, his purpose, the Ineffable Plan - became exquisitely clear.

It wasn't the pleasure of being inside Crowley, though that was indeed considerable, the tight heat of his body around his cock more exquisite than even the best meal he could remember. It was the pleasure of Crowley himself, watching his eyes flutter closed with a sigh of pleasure as he seated himself on Aziraphale's hips. It was the groan that he made as he began to move, like nothing in the world was better than this. It was the way he looked up at him, the well of emotion in those golden eyes - need and vulnerability and the purest, most exquisite love. And if he'd had any doubt left as to his place in the world, this would have quashed it a thousand times over, this love. A love more pure than all the forces of heaven combined could ever hope to aspire to.

"My Crowley," he breathed, and pulled Crowley's mouth to his again. And as they moved together, as in pace as they'd been since the beginning of time, he let the joy of that love fill him, let it guide him until the pleasure of their union drew them, together, to ecstasy.

Afterwards Crowley curled around him and over him, burying his face in Aziraphale's neck. It made Aziraphale think of the first time they'd met on earth, of the shining black serpent seeking the heat of his body, and he found the idea unexpectedly charming.

He stroked his fingers through Crowley's hair, thinking more of that day. They'd both done the right thing, in the end. He was sure of that, now. They'd always been on the same side.

"You always had the courage to ask the difficult questions," he murmured, wishing that he could have seen that long ago. "I wish I'd found that courage sooner."

Crowley gave a small shake of his head and then raised it to look at him, his smile wistful. "We'll make the most of the time we have," he said, indulging in another slow, sweet kiss. "At least if I am to be set upon by all the forces of hell I'll have spent my last night on earth with you."

"About that," Aziraphale started, and told him his idea.

Crowley regarded him silently as he spoke, but a smile slowly grew from the corners of his lips, kissing Aziraphale before he could finish. "Beautiful and a genius," he murmured against his lips, and smoothed one hand up his chest. "Only I think I'll have to know you very, very well indeed to pull it off."

Aziraphale felt a rush of endearment and desire both, and briefly wondered how on earth Humans could ever resist it. But then again, no human could hold a finger to Crowley. "I do hope you mean that in the biblical sense," he breathed, and Crowley laughed.

"Anything you ask, my Angel."

~~~

**Author's Note:**

> Whether you're an old or new GO fan, I hope you enjoyed! If you did, could you please take ten seconds and leave me a comment? I am a starving author ;__;


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